Asylum
by SmileyBoo
Summary: Buffy was wrong; she never did leave that mental institution. She's been there for six years. This is the tale of what was really happening, while Buffy spent her time in Sunnydale, the imaginary world in her head. Rated T to be safe. AU.
1. Intro

Disclaimer: I own nothing…but the plotline.

A/N: If I get anything wrong, such as entitling a medical instrument incorrectly, or I don't have my facts straight, or have made some other similar error, _please _do not hesitate to tell me. I strive to have a great, correct, story; so I'd appreciate it if you'd help me to achieve it.

Asylum

Intro

The doctor shut off his penlight and shook his head.

"No!" The blonde woman cried, kneeling down and shaking her unresponsive daughter, "No; Buffy, Buffy listen to Mommy…"

"Joyce," her husband tried, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, "Just leave her-"

"Leave her?!" she turned to Hank, enraged, "How could you say that? She's our daughter, for Heaven's sake! I can't give up on her!"

"Mrs. Summers, please…" The third adult started.

"I-I can't," Joyce repeated, "I can't just leave my baby here. We had her. We _had_ her! She was lucid for the second time since she came here! How did we lose her?" She sobbed into her husband's arms, looking into his eyes for some nonexistent answer.

"How did we lose her, Hank?" He didn't answer.

"It's common for patients with schizophrenia to be unable to let go of their delusions, and that seems to be the case with Elizabeth. Her own world was just…too real to let go of."

"B-but she'd rather be with some i-imaginary friends than with her o-own parents? I don't understand." The poor mother voiced her confusion.

"I know it's a difficult concept to grasp, but that seems to be the case so far. With treatment, she may recover-"

"Soon?" The worried father cut him off.

"There's no way of knowing. To be honest; it's not often that catatonic people recover." the man confided in the couple, "We had a lot more reason to be hopeful before, well, _this_."

"Oh, Hank!" His wife clutched at his shirt, her nails denting the smooth skin of his chest.

"I think you'd better be going, now."

"No!" the distraught woman rushed back to her child's side.

"Joyce…" Her husband said warningly.

"It isn't healthy for you to stay here." The doctor advised them, receiving no visible response, "I realize how upsetting this must be, but I really think you need to go." Hank tried, in vain, to remove his wife from their limp daughter. Sighing, the doctor poked his head out of his patient's room and signaled a security guard.

"Don't lose hope." He called after the two, in a pitiful attempt to console them as they were escorted out of the hospital. He didn't mention that there wasn't any.

"Too late." A voice responded, "I've already lost it."


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing…but the plotline.

Chapter 1

"Buffy!" The Slayer turned around just in time to stake her attacker. The dust hadn't even settled before more fanged demons lunged at her in a full-frontal attack. To a normal person; this would have been a bit intimidating, but not to the Slayer. In the wink of an eye, they had joined their undead buddy in Hell.

"Thanks for the warning, Will." The blonde brushed some vamp-dust off of her leather-clad shoulder.

"N-no problem, Buff." The girl smiled awkwardly, fingering the hem of her fuzzy woolen sweater.

"Yeah; we're here for ya." The only male present grinned goofily.

"_Right_. Because you were doing _so_ much to help." The Slayer rolled her eyes.

"Hey!" A brown-haired youth stared irritably at the men in white coats as they pushed past him, "Can't a guy walk the halls without being ambushed?"

No one answered. They were too busy trying to hold down a girl with green eyes, who was valiantly fighting off the doctors that had come to administer her daily shots.

"Vampires!" She screeched, "Get off me!"

"Buffy; calm down. We're not going to hurt you." One of the young men coaxed the frantic girl. The others were too busy strapping her down to her bed to deal with such niceties.

"Come on; just hold still- I got her. I got her guys." The teen's body went limp, the tranquilizer setting in.

The medics left the white-washed room, panting from the overexertion. Only one looked back at the blonde sixteen-year-old, sighing.

"Goodnight, Buffy." He smiled bitterly, leaving to resume his other responsibilities.

"See?" Xander puffed out his chest in pride, "I helped out just then; didn't I?"

The Slayer surveyed the remnants of her latest attackers as they blew away. She probably would have gotten hurt a lot worse if her best guy-friend hadn't screamed. But she wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

"I probably would have been fine." The blonde shrugged off his remark.

"I can guarantee you wouldn't have beaten them as quickly if it wasn't for my outstanding moral support."

"Okay Xander; whatever you say."

"Hey! Buffy!" But the teen was already ten steps ahead, "I'm useful; right?"

"Yeah Xander; you're a-an invaluable part of the team." His best friend assured him, eyes full of adoration.

"Thanks Will." He gave her a soft pat on the shoulder before chasing after the other girl, "Buffy; wait up!"

The dark-haired boy waited until the doctors had left the hallway, choosing the moment they left to sneak a peek at the girl. She was pale; probably from too much time spent indoors, and her hair was a golden-honey color, framing her face in straight locks. She looked peaceful as she slept. The boy liked it when she did. He hated to see her in any sort of pain, and, well, whenever she woke up, she seemed to be disturbed about something, furrowing her perfect brow into a million little wrinkled depressions. The young man checked to see if the coast was clear before sneaking in to stroke the blonde locks, and offer a comforting word.

"I love you, Buffy. Get well soon so we can ditch this place, okay? I know you can do it; you're the Slayer; right? You can do anything." He didn't bother to check his speech for reality; not when they were alone. Placing a soft kiss on her brow, the boy headed out, just missing the smile his deed was rewarded with.

"Buffy; I think we should stop." The man breathed heavily, breaking a passionate kiss.

"But why?" The Slayer whined, not wanting to fall from her current euphoria.

"Well; there's the slaying for one thing."

"Oh, yeah. _That_."

"And the matter of the vampire behind you." Buffy glanced at intimidating fiend, rolled her eyes and wasting no time in staking it.

"No biggie." The teen wrapped her arms around her centuries-old boyfriend's neck, "Now; where were we?"


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing…yet.

Chapter 2

Elizabeth woke up in the same bed she had slept in since her admission to the psychiatric ward; but she didn't see it. Her eyes were unfocused, so no one could tell what she was looking at, or thinking about, or even get her attention. She wasn't always out of it, but as time went on, she became increasingly more unaware of her surroundings, receding to her "Sunnydale" fantasy more and more often. This particular morning, however, Elizabeth was just zoning out, plagued with the early-morning exhaustion that most teens suffer from.

"Ms. Summers? May I come in?" An elderly man inquired politely, his British accent drawing the silent girl from her reverie.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." The girl replied, up to a normal level of lucidity.

"Good to see you up and about this early."

"It's early?" Due to her violent tendencies, Elizabeth was never allowed much more than a padded bed in her room, and certainly not a clock.

"Yes; only nine."

"Go me." The teen deadpanned.

"Would you, em, fancy some breakfast?"

"I guess. What's on the menu for today?"

"Cold cereal, yoghurt, and assorted fruits." The spectacled man responded.

"Ugh. No wonder I'm always in fantasy-land; I actually get _good_ food there." The blonde joked.

"Hah, hah. Very funny, Ms. Summers."

"You know, you can call me Elizabeth. I call you Rupert; that's your first name, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite." The doctor affirmed, "And the fact that you _do_ call me that shows a complete lack of respect."

Elizabeth felt herself fading.

The Slayer shrugged. There was no right answer here.

"Buffy, you're shirking your responsibilities!"

"No I am not! I'm trying my best, Giles! I can't help it if mom takes up my slaying time! If I could just tell her-"

"That is out of the question." The watcher replied stubbornly.

"Then you need to cut me some slack!" The teen protested.

"Buffy…a Slayer can not afford to-"

"-lose her. If we can't keep bringing her back, she may become catatonic." The doctors whispered amongst themselves, unsure if their charge could understand them.

The young, dark-haired one; Elizabeth's favorite by far, left the hushed discussion of his coworkers to greet the groggy blonde.

"Hey. How are you doing today?"

"Okay. Only one visit to Hellsville so far." The green-eyed sixteen-year-old confessed.

"So; would you say that's an improvement?"

"How would I know? I leave the knowledge-y stuff up to you guys. That _is_ your job, right?"

The man chuckled. Elizabeth was the first patient assigned to him, so he felt a special connection and a certain need to be her sole caretaker, constantly checking up on her at all hours of the day. The girl had grown to love his company, which was better than her original detestation of the whole situation.

"So, how would you feel about having some visitors today?" He asked kindly, though his face didn't necessarily portray a kind visage.

"Depends," the young woman responded, "Who's coming?"

"Your parents," He started.

"Go figure."

"Will you be able to handle i-"

"Yes; I am more than capable of dealing with my parents without retreating to vamp-land."

"Okay, then. I'll let them know." The young man got up to leave the girl, but she pulled him back.

"Yes?"

"Lium?" She almost whispered.

The doctor fought the urge to chastise the girl's inappropriate usage of his first name.

"Do you think…"

"Think what?"

"Maybe-you know, in a little while-if it's okay-could I just…"

The solemn man waited patiently for her response.

"Can I leave soon?" Her light eyes searched the doctor's dark ones, finding no solace.

"Elizabeth-"

"I'm getting better-really!" The girl protested.

"I know you are." Buffy's boyfriend agreed, "But until the Master is destroyed-"

"I know." The blonde interrupted, "If at first you don't succeed, train, train again."

The soul-bearing demon rolled his eyes at the pun. "Ready to do it again?"

"Why Angel; what _are_ you suggesting? I hope you weren't thinking about anything _else_ that we might 'do'." The Slayer pouted hopefully, "Were you?"

The vampiric man was unfazed by his girlfriend's insinuating questions. Holding up his hands Angel waited for her first attack, his face stoic.

Sighing, Buffy subsided. "Fine; have it _your_ way."

"So; she stays?"

"I think that's our best course of action." The young doctor nodded.

The anxious mother glanced out the office window, trying to catch sight of her daughter's room. "She just seems so…unhappy. Maybe she would benefit from coming home; just for a little while. It could be nice; we'd be together again, and I know she would love to come home and see everybody-"

"No." Mr. Summers shook his head, "She has to stay here."

"B-but-"

"Joyce; we can't afford to have another lawsuit on our hands; we're not equipped to deal with a kid who lights buildings on fire!"

"She didn't mean to!" The man's wife protested.

"And she won't mean it when she stabs one of us in our sleep because we're vampires, right?" He questioned facetiously.

Mrs. Summers was silent.

"So it's settled then," The doctor affirmed, "She stays."

"I-I'll be right back." The shattered woman rose from the hard plastic chair, "I-I just need s-some fresh air."

Hank watched as his wife scurried down the hallway.

"This whole thing is really screwed up."

"I'd have to agree with you there." The dark-haired man sympathized.

"Buffy; Buffy, wake up!"

The Slayer awoke to see the woman beside her on the couch.

"Hi, mom."

"She's awake!" A shrill voice was heard from down the hall, "Hank; she's up!"

The man in question leapt out of his seat at the news, rushing to greet his only child.

"I'm up, I'm up. Sheesh." The Slayer rubbed her head.

"Buffy; it's two o'clock in the morning! Where have you be-is that a scratch?"

"What? Where?" The blonde tried to remain coy.

"On your head; Elizabeth, what have they done to you?"

"She was struggling against the doctors," The dark-haired man of that profession divulged, "We had to tranquilize her in order to give her the appropriate medication, and she smacked her forehead on the door."

"You put her out just to drug her?" Joyce was appalled.

"Not usually." The doctor clarified, "But sometimes, we have to. She doesn't like needles, and she's extremely strong. Some of us have bruises from trying to hold her down." The doctor pulled up a sleeve to reveal an arm dotted with large black-and-blue marks.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" The older woman pulled back her daughter's bangs to further examine the mark, finding it dry.

"Yeah-just great! See?" Buffy motioned to the rest of her cut-free body, untainted by Angel's pig blood.

Her mother wasn't convinced, but decided to leave the matter be; after all, she had bigger fish to fry.

"Where were you?"

"I've been here all night! Really! I-I was at Willow's, and I stayed late, and I didn't see you when I went upsta-"

"Elizabeth?" Her mother questioned, finding her daughter's monologue pertaining little to their present conversation, "Lizzie? Are you there?"

"I'm sorry!" The delusional girl cried.

"She's _there_ again; isn't she?" Hank roared at the other man, "You're meant to be _helping_ her!"

"But mom; that isn't fair!" The young Miss Summers pleaded to no one in particular.

"Why does she keep getting worse?!"

"Hank; stop it, please, you're upsetting her!"

"She doesn't understand a thing I'm saying, do you, Lizzie?" He asked the blonde girl.

"She can't make me do this." Buffy muttered to herself.

"See?" The angry man looked at the doctor in disgust; "She's not even really here, is she?"

The dark-haired man lowered his head.

"I didn't think so." Mr. Summers turned to the woman beside him, "Let's go. We can come again later, okay? Maybe she'll be better then."

Joyce gently took hold of her husband's hand. "Maybe." She gazed back at her daughter, her eyes blurred by unshed tears, "Maybe tomorrow, then."


End file.
